Draco's Story
by haiga
Summary: Draco is fed up with his father and his life and there's no escape. How will his final year at Hogwarts change everything? Please Read and Review!
1. the bathroom

Draco was standing in the middle of the white marble floor in the bathroom of his mansion. He surveyed the shattered glass in the sink and on the floor. A spattering of blood blended with the glass casting red shadows on the ceiling and walls. There was a trickle of blood making its way down the underside of his forearm where it dripped from his elbow onto the side of the sink; gradually enough for him to wonder if time had slowed down. Draco couldn't feel that trickle, just like he couldn't feel the gashes in his fist after hitting the mirror. Images flashed through his mind of him yelling at his father when he told him that he, Draco, _did_ matter to someone. After he had said that, Lucius smirked. _Smirked_. His own father thought him insignificant and worthless. Draco had only yelled to prove to his father how much he didn't rely on his judgment to validate himself. The truth was he didn't know anyone who thought him worth anything. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, they all were only his friends for power, he didn't care for them, and they didn't care for him, that's how it worked. But he felt like he had to prove something to his father after years of emotional and physical abuse. If there was one person in the whole world who could make Draco feel like nothing, it was his own father. Today, though, something just snapped in him and he yelled, much to his own surprise. He screamed and threatened his dad, telling him he was wrong about everything and how his treatment was becoming unbearable. Then he came into this bathroom. This cell where he had just vented all of his frustration on the bathroom mirror, but it didn't matter. He couldn't do anything else about it. Leaning his back against the door, Draco slid down and wrapped his arms around his knees, leaning his forehead against them and letting everything out. He started to cry, rocking himself as a sort of comfort against his miserable life, all the while wondering why, why this had to happen to him.


	2. wishes

Draco felt exhausted. He knew he had to control himself better the next time his emotions were overwhelming him. After wiping his cheeks dry with the backs of his shaking hands, Draco raised himself up onto his feet and stared at the mess of broken glass and spattered blood. He knew he could just get one of the houselves to clean it up, but looking at it brought back some painful feeling into his right fist. He looked down and observed his bloodied knuckles. There wasn't too much damage, just minor cuts, but turning over his hand to inspect his palm, he realized what was making his hand throb and what had made him bleed so much; there was about a two inch long gash from the base of his thumb and across his wrist. Draco thought that must've happened when he slammed his hand down in the sink.

The wave of frustration, hurt and anger that had caused him to react that way did had subsided a little, but he knew it would never totally go away, his sense of failure and insignificance was always throbbing in the back of his mind like a headache that never was going to fully assuage. His head throbbed harder when he thought about leaving this room and facing his father again. Gathering up his wits, and ignoring the insecure little boy in the back of his mind that was telling him to keep himself locked in the bathroom, Draco opened the door and stepped out into the large, marble hallway. There were rose pillars running down each side of the long hall, and the floor had impressive designs of mimicked Greek art.

He knew Lucius would greet him with cool indifference, but because he was used to it by now, there was only a small pang of hurt that passed over him as he turned to his left and started to walk. With heavy feet, and an even heavier heart, Draco Malfoy made his way to his room alone.

The blond boy flopped lazily on his bed and threw his forearms over his eyes to block out the moonlight that bathed his king-sized bed. The thoughts that ran through his mind weren't ones of self pity, no, they were about escape. The only thing that he had kept his mind focused on when he came home for the summer was to get back to Hogwarts. Now the end of summer was in two days and that left one more full day to deal with his father – or avoid his father, which was exactly what he planned on doing.

Draco, when he heard a knock on his bedroom door, uncovered his eyes and sat up. The door creaked open slowly and two big ears poked into view, followed by two huge eyes; it was their house elf that Draco hadn't even managed to learn the name of, but it wasn't like he cared anyway. Timidly the elf asked Draco if he would like his dinner brought up to him. Angered at the interruption of his thoughts, Draco snapped at the elf, telling him to go away before serious harm was caused to his limbs. He thought the elf deserved a good yelling for interrupting him. Draco knew the elf was already afraid of him, not for no good reason either. For fun, he tortured all of the house elves with fire; he even beat them when he got really upset. It made him feel good though, to finally have power over another living creature.

Lying back down on his emerald silk sheets, Draco's mind wandered to thoughts of a happiness he thought he was never going to experience; thoughts where disappointment and misery weren't a part of daily life. Although Draco wished things to get better, he knew that as a Malfoy, such dreams were never going to be fulfilled.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello readers, this story is going tomove along more when Draco actually gets to school...and with that there is not more really to say except ENJOY

WAIT! the disclaimer i forgot in the previous chapters :S - I do not own anything, and what fool would pretend they owned jk's characters or plot? anyways...don't sue:)

The next morning Draco awoke from a deep sleep to the sounds of someone's incessant talking. Slowly opening his eyes he could barely make out the blurred figure of his mother standing at the side of his bed. Blinking against the blinding sun that made its way from the window to pierce his eyes, he turned over and muttered something that he hoped sounded like 'go away'. Not one to take rejection, Narcissa dragged the covers off of her only son and shook him, all the while yapping about what needed to be done that day. Yes, Draco liked his mom, but she got on his nerves too often with her shallowness and prying. The disturbing realization that he was just as shallow as her made him mentally cringe. It's not like he ever actually did anything productive to change who he was, though. He resented himself so much at times, he hated his father, didn't respect his mother, and yet he didn't do anything to change it. That fact alone caused so much disappointment in himself that he preferred to dwell in self hatred than make the effort to reach the seemingly unattainable light at the end of the tunnel. If there even was any light.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Draco watched his mother's back as she left. He took the glass by the side of the table that was full of water and emptied it in one gulp. He reached a pale hand up and raked his fingers through the halo of shaggy blonde hair that adorned his small delicately featured face. Draco stood and made his way over to his closet and pulled some random clothes from their hangers quite roughly, not caring. He then went over to his dresser and grabbed boxers and an undershirt. He undressed and then put the boxers on and pulled the undershirt over his head. Then he stood in front of the mirror to look at himself briefly before putting on the rest of his outfit. Draco didn't mind his body; he knew the girls liked it well enough. He was thin, but not too thin, he even had an outline of some stomach muscles. Pansy once told him that he looked like he could have been the lead singer of a band. Like he would be caught dead in a band; what degradation, Draco smirked. Turning from the mirror, Draco picked his black pants from off the floor he so carelessly threw there minutes before and pulled them on. They fit him nicely. He then buckled the studded belt that hung from his belt loops. He thought this would intimidate people, especially goody goody people like Hermione Granger. Throwing a faded black, tight-fitting t-shirt on that had a faded design on it of some kind, he started walking out of his room and towards the dining hall where his father would surely be. He let out a long sigh as he made his way around a corner, and then put on a steely countenance before turning into the large extravagantly decorated dining hall.

Draco swept his gaze across the room before he sat down at the long table in the middle of the big room.

"Good morning, father." Draco didn't even crack a smile as he leveled his gaze to match his father's.

"Draco, you're late." There was the usual asperity in his voice that Draco had expected.

"I know, father, I -"

"I don't want to hear it. Do not let it happen again." With his bejeweled right hand, Lucius waved off a house elf with a plate of pancakes and with his other hand picked up a piece of toast, and with his usual arrogance, started to eat it. Draco watched his father do all of this with a growing anger rising in the pit of his stomach. He knew he had to control his emotions, so he pushed them back down and picked up his fork to start eating the eggs in front of him.

Draco ate quietly, not wanting to talk to his father. He finished as fast as he could and asked to excuse himself from the dining room. Lucius looked at him somewhat curiously, wondering why Draco was so eager to leave, barely recalling his son's outburst the night before that he so easily dismissed. He nodded slowly and Draco pushed his chair out from the table and rose, turned and started walking across the room towards the door.

"Draco." He stopped walking and turned around slowly. When his father and he locked eyes, Lucius said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Never disappoint me again." And with that, his eyes went back to his plate, and he began to eat again. It was like he forgot Draco was still there, standing with his eyes fixed on the crown of his father's head with his hands balled up into tight fists at his sides. Draco slowly turned and left the dining hall.

Ok, 3rd chap done, sorry that they're kinda short, i just don't have enough time to make really long ones..so they're kinda short for now. please review, i want to hear what you think...and till next time - au revoir!


	4. attic thoughts

By comparison, that had not gone as badly as it could have. Barely anything was said, that was a relief, but what _was_ said made him wonder if he could stop himself from releasing emotions he knew would only hurt him in the end. It was just till tomorrow, he kept telling himself again and again, and although those words helped him, they hadn't changed the fact that he was still here till tomorrow.

After Draco walked out of the dining hall and away from his father, he went to his favourite spot in the mansion – the attic. The attic was where he went almost every day to escape the rest of the house and its burdens; it was a sort of sanctuary he was convinced kept him sane during the summer months. He climbed up a huge winding staircase that branched off into two directions, one continuing up into a darkened abyss and another that went to the Malfoy owlery. Not even pausing to consider the different routes, he headed up the stairs and was engulfed into the darkness. He came to a ceiling of wood and pushed on two of the boards. With a small grunt, they were lifted and pushed aside on the floor of a spacious attic that overlooked the grand yards of the Malfoy estate. Draco lifted himself into the room and carefully pushed the floorboards back into place. He pushed a large box of books over them so no one could come in after him. Then, after grabbing a book from the said box, he went to the large window that was on the opposite side of the empty room and sat in front of it. Just staring out at the vast landscape he wondered what it would be like to be free and living on his own out in that world. Sure he had been to many parties with his friends and adult parties with his father, but he felt like there was more to life. Draco knew there were people who weren't stressed half as much as he was, who didn't feel the need to impress like he did, and most of all, there were people who actually cared for each other. If only Draco could find someone, anyone, who he could care for and they could care for him. If only he could experience something worthwhile about life that wasn't at the expense of other people. If only…. These people and this life he imagined for himself he knew would never be possible unless he changed, unless he wasn't so vain and insecure. His inadequacies were what made him thrash out at people who he was jealous of, like Potter. He had everything Draco didn't: Friends who cared about him, attention and fame, and it seemed like everyone liked him that knew him personally.

Draco ripped his gaze from the vast grounds and the woods beyond and opened the random book he had grabbed from the box on the other side of the room. He found an escape in this book and began to read with more and more fervor.

The afternoon wore on as he continuously turned the pages. He heard his mother's voice that was magically magnified to boom throughout the entire manse telling him it was time for dinner, but Draco ignored it, opting for the seclusion the attic gave him, and the escape that his book allowed him to enjoy.

Finally, after nightfall, and after he had turned the last page of his book, Draco stood up and made his way across the room and pushed the box of books out of the way. He then lifted the floorboards and climbed down the spiral staircase. When he got to the bottom floor, Draco navigated himself toward the kitchens, but before he got there, a hand came out of a doorway and grabbed him. He was pushed against the wall and soon saw his father's face, close to his and clearly irate. Well that was all Draco needed the final day before he left. Lucius pressed him against the wall and stepped up so close to him that Draco could feel his breath on his face.

"Boy, where were you tonight?"

"I was upstairs, father, I was reading," Draco tried to sound as composed and steely as possible, but he heard himself falter slightly.

"Upstairs. Didn't you hear your mother calling you? She was dead worried, thought you'd gone and killed yourself." Lucius gave a little sneer and continued, "What's your problem lately, it's as if you don't even want to be in the same room as me."

"What are you talking about? I was reading and wasn't hungry. As for not being in the same room as you, I can honestly say your right."

Draco was still pressed up against the wall and his chest where his father was pressing with his fist was starting to hurt. He moved slightly to his right towards the kitchen, but his father, with his other hand, grabbed his arm – lightly this time – and looked him in the eyes and said harshly, "I'm your _father_; there is no need for you to be afraid of _me_!"

"I'm not afraid of you, _father_, I simply abhor you." And with that, Draco stepped around his now livid father who was red in the face and looked as if he could have caused extreme pain to someone if they crossed his path, and walked swiftly into the large kitchen. Draco didn't feel good about what happened. He just felt numb. He was surprised, though, that his father had just stood there staring at him after his last words.

Now standing in this room that was bustling with house elves, he discreetly crept over to a corner of the room that a relatively large, swiveling chair occupied, and sank into the comfy cushions that readily engulfed him. It was only a matter of minutes before he fell into quiet dreams about a garden where he sat in perfect felicity with the wind rustling through his shaggy hair.


	5. Hogwarts

A/N: Thank you reviewers...i appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, etc.

The next day he woke up with a house elf prodding his left elbow and telling him that his mother was looking for him.

Groggily, Draco lifted himself out of the chair, rubbed his eyes and stretched. The kitchen was busy, and the cowering house elf talking beside him seemed to be the only one that was paying attention to him. He nodded to it and quickly left the room. Jumping the stairs two at a time, Draco came to his room slightly out of breath. His room was clean, there were no clothes strewn anywhere, and going over to the closet and opening it, he realized that all his clothes were already gone. It was no surprise; he never did his own packing. Draco looked at his silver watch that hung loosely on his right wrist and swore. It was 11:00; that left him only half an hour to get to Kings Cross station. He turned and started to run down the stairs and into his living room where both of his parents were already waiting; his mother had an impatient look on her face, meanwhile his father's was quite characteristically blank.

"Draco, we have been waiting here for half an hour! Where have you been?" His mother's shrill voice filled the large room, "We even sent the house elves looking for you."

"Sorry, I fell asleep…lost track of time." His lame explanation won him a disappointed look from his mother. He didn't even glance at his father, but assumed he had the same blank expression on his face that he did when he first walked in.

"Alright, well let's not waste any more time." Narcissa pushed Draco towards the fireplace and threw in some floo powder. He stepped into the green flames, said the name of his London home and shut his eyes while the whirring around him became louder and he could feel himself spinning faster and faster. Draco landed on the floor of the immensely large living room of his London home. He brought himself to his knees and coughed as a pair of simple, black shoes came into his view. He stood up and was staring into the face of his butler, Giles. He had neatly combed grey hair and was wearing a pin striped suit. Draco started to hold out his hand in a formal hello, when his mother bumped into him from behind. He barely missed hitting the fellow in front of him, but was quick to move out of the way.

Narcissa picked herself gracefully up from the floor and smiled haughtily to the man in front of her, giving him a tight 'hello', before stepping aside to wait for her husband who stepped elegantly from the fire just moments later, amazingly he did not even stumble.

Lucius politely shook hands with Giles and then walked over to Draco's trunk that was on the other side of the room.

All three of them quickly assembled his accoutrements and made their way to Kings Cross station, with Giles driving to be as muggle-like as possible. They stepped through the barrier at platform 93/4 and were engulfed in steam, but peering through it they could see they were facing the long scarlet train that was the Hogwarts Express. The train's whistle was blowing; Draco loaded his luggage onto it and went back to his parents to say goodbye. His mother gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and patted his back. When he turned to his father, he saw how his face only showed plainly indifferent features. They both locked penetrating gazes with each other, but Draco only waited a few hesitant moments before he was the first to break their stare. He then nodded his head and started to turn away. Lucius didn't even say anything, but just watched as his only son walked onto the train and out of his sight.

Draco walked towards the back of the train where he was sure the rest of the Slytherins were, but as he passed by one compartment, he heard his name being mentioned amidst hushed tones. He paused and opened the compartment door with a smirk on his face. It was probably an admirer. But quickly his smirk disappeared and was replaced with a scowl as he saw none other than Potter, Weasley, and Granger. This was just great. The trio looked up at him, and was immediately quieted. Ron's face became even redder, as it always did whenever he saw Draco, Harry reached for his wand, and Granger stiffened, also reaching for her wand. He knew the looks of pure hatred on their faces weren't totally unwarranted.

Draco leaned against the compartment doorway and tried to sound aloof and cold while he said, "Why hello, gang. What are you up to besides discussing me? Am I to be included in your latest plans to save the world?" He laughed coldly while waiting for their response.

"Shut up Malfoy, if you want to keep your limbs." Ron snapped, starting to stand up.

"Oh Ron," cut in Hermione impatiently. Draco just raised his elegant eyebrows at this interruption, curious as to what this mudblood had to say. "He's not worth it. He thinks because he's rich everyone will bow down at his feet. I don't understand even why or _how_ your father could like you. Look at yourself in a mirror. You're pathetic." The look on her face was of true disgust and loathing that really got to Draco.

He put on a bravado as he said, "I look quite great in the mirror, thank you, Granger; however, I highly advise you to take a look in one yourself." He spun around and continued to the back of the bus and didn't stop until he reached an empty compartment. Draco slumped down beside the window and leaned his forehead against it; trying to shake off the awful feelings of failure that had come over him the moment Granger had opened her stupid mouth. It just confirmed everything he had thought about himself. He was starting to wallow in self pity. Draco knew that if he ever wanted to change he had to censor his mouth, and that included when he was around the sickening dream team. It was the only way Draco was ever going to get out of this depressing situation he was in. The only way to become a better person was for him to be nice…yes, actually be _civil_ to people, including his long time enemies. He thought it would all be worth it, though, if he could finally be happy. His resolution was made, and he was starting to plan out his how he would handle his next encounter with them, when Crabbe and Goyle walked into his compartment and sat clumsily down next to and across from him.

They grunted hellos in that odd, non-human way they have. He answered them with stiff replies and they sat in silence for a long time before Crabbe spoke up.

"Hey Draco, I saw Potter near the front of the train. Nearly knocked his teeth out too, but I thought you would've wanted to see it."

Not sure what to say to that, especially after his newfound resolution, he said, "Well...Ahem...Thanks Crabbe, that was a nice thought. But from now on, could you," Draco paused to gather the courage, "could you stop beating up on them?"

The two other boys stared at him.

"What? Why do you care? You've always wanted to get rid of them, especially Potter." Goyle finally asked.

"Well, yes. But I don't think father would like us getting into trouble for beating on people who couldn't properly defend themselves." Draco knew his excuse was lame, but didn't know what else to say without having them turning on him.

Crabbe and Goyle stared with mouths agape at what Draco had just said. This was the first time he had told them to stop when it came to their attempts at debilitating Potter or one of his entourage. The two boys didn't like to argue with Draco, and so Goyle said very timidly, "That hasn't stopped you before."

Draco was getting frustrated. "Listen, Goyle, I _said_ we aren't allowed to beat up on them, and I mean it. If you want to be expelled, be my guest, but I'm staying here and out of trouble this year." That silenced them, and for the rest of the train ride all three of them just sat in stony silence as the minutes to their arrival at Hogwarts reduced and Hogsmeade finally came into view. The train stopped and the three boys stepped out onto the platform and then into one of the horseless carriages, unfortunately joined now by Pansy Parkinson. Pansy was incredibly annoying. She wouldn't stop talking, and no matter how disinterested he seemed, she still continued. He was very thankful when they finally reached Hogwarts.

That night was quit a blur to Draco. He first met up with all the other Slytherins while habitually ignoring the other tables and waited impatiently while all the first years were introduced; the meal was next and Draco kept to himself as the rest of his house told stories about their summer holidays.

When everything was finally over and all of the dishes were cleared away, Draco walked slowly down to his dorm in the lower legions of the castle by himself. Usually he was outgoing and was the one telling all of the good summer stories, but this year, Draco didn't have the heart to pretend his 'great' life was better than everyone else's, when it was so very _not_. The Slytherins barely noticed his uncharacteristic quietness in their excitement of seeing new and old faces and the start of another school year, and so Draco hid in the shadows, avoiding their shallow and trivial talk as much as possible. When he made it to his dorm, Draco fell onto his bed and almost immediately fell asleep, still fully clothed.

The next morning he woke up in his icy room after a fitful sleep. He quickly showered and dressed into his uniform and then headed down to breakfast alone. The first class of the day was Potions, one of his best subjects and also his most favourite, and so with a fair bit of alacrity, he headed down to the potions room that was deserted as of yet. Draco took out his books and quill to set them beside his cauldron. After a few minutes he was joined by none other than Neville Longbottom – an incredibly clumsy and forgetful Gryffindor who was also friends with Potter. When Neville spotted him, he did a double take and began to slowly back towards the door from whence he came only seconds before, no doubt not wanting to be alone with him. Draco just rolled his eyes and bent over his blank notebook. The fear he instilled so obviously in people like Neville Longbottom made him feel proud, but as soon as that feeling surfaced, he tried to push it back down because he knew he shouldn't feel proud. To be so cruel to someone it makes them too afraid to be in a room alone with the other person shouldn't be something to be proud of.

Before he could dwell anymore on his feelings, three of his fellow Slytherins entered the room behind the already frightened boy. They just stood there as Neville bumped into them. The Gryffindor jumped, turned, and then after realizing who he had just ran into, began apologizing profusely while trying to maneuver his way around the three massive bodies that refused to move. One of the towering boys pushed Neville hard and he fell backwards into the corner of a desk – it looked like it hurt. Another of the Slytherins shoved Neville against the wall, pointed his wand at him, and said "spearo". Draco knew that was a cruel spell. It made the recipient feel like a thousand needles were prodding every inch of their skin; it was a less harmful and less painful form of the Crucio curse, and also wasn't categorized as unforgivable, but it still hurt – a lot. He watched as the helpless boy fell crumpled to the floor, twitching. Draco felt an unpleasant twinge of something he couldn't identify making its way through his gut. He had flashbacks to when he performed similar incantations on other helpless people, including the boy before him, but he had never cared about them or how hurt they were. Draco looked at Neville's face and saw that it was screwed up in pain; he also saw the silent tear that he hastily wiped away so his tormentors wouldn't see it. Through all of this Draco sat silent and still in his seat. He tried to reason with himself; it wasn't like he could just stand up for Neville, all of the respect and admiration he had gained throughout his years at Hogwarts would go down the drain if he did anything so foolish. Yet if he wanted to be respected by people that truly liked him for him and who could help him feel worth something, then he had to give them reasons to befriend him.

Although Draco didn't make any moves to help the poor boy (because he seemed glued to his seat), something in side of him suddenly connected with the anguish on Neville's face, something that he identified with affected his conscience and guilt like it never had before. Draco averted his gaze from the boy to try and shake the intense feelings inside of him, and looked towards the doorway where he saw Potter, Weasley and Granger enter and start helping Neville to his desk. All three of them shot evil looks his way, like they suspected he had something to do with it, but that was far from reality.

The rest of Potions class that day turned out to be very eventful: Draco's jar of liquefied bat brains fell onto the floor and spilt everywhere after he had accidentally ran into his (thankfully) empty cauldron, which earned him an impatient look from Professor Snape; he forgot to add several ingredients to his potion, and added the werewolf intestines five minutes too late, causing it to turn a sickly brownish colour that was emitting tiny whistling noises. Finally at the end of the lesson, and after Snape had been compelled to rid his cauldron of its nauseating liquid, Draco had slipped out of class alone and feeling quite incompetent. He wasn't too busy in class, though, not to notice the peculiar looks and whispers that everyone had made while they thought he wasn't looking, and he also knew that people would be wondering what was up with him, but he was trying not to care, and it was definitely hard when he had been so conditioned from birth to want to make an impressing impact on other people.

Potions class had finally come to an end, though, and it was time for his next class. The problems that had occurred during first period did not seem to abate throughout the following class, or the rest of the day for that matter, and the more he tried to concentrate on the task at hand, his mind would always return to the inward turmoil that besieged it.


	6. Hallway encounters

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

A/N: Hello readers! thanks to the people who have reviewed thus far! and those of you who haven't: PLEASE REVIEW! alright, and without further ado...chapter 6.

* * *

It was the beginning of October, and school hadn't gotten much better than that first day. Draco was also becoming increasingly quiet. He had stopped participating in classes and kept to himself unless required otherwise. This newfound shyness he displayed was a relief to the other Hogwarts houses, but the Slytherins were none too happy. They were becoming very irritated with how he was acting; it was like Draco, the Draco they new, had gone and left a weak, ineffective leader that was a disgrace to the Slytherin house. Draco knew those sentiments were brewing; he felt the angry glares they sent him everyday when he walked through the common room, and often times he overheard his roommates talking about him being a deserter and a humiliation. By no means was this easy for him to endure, he had doubted his resolve many times, but ultimately knew that he would benefit in the end, too much from this change, to give it up. 

One night Draco, after eating his dinner sitting alone, left to go to directly to his room, as was becoming customary. Making his way through the corridors, he heard several heavy footfalls behind him. Draco didn't think twice about them until, before he knew what was happening, someone had shoved him face first into the stone wall. He heard heavy breathing in his ear and a low growl. With another shove from his unknown assailant, Draco had landed hard on his side, feeling the cold damp floor against his cheek. Slowly he turned his face upwards to be able to see who had pushed him; they were two of his younger, but incredibly huge, housemates. They looked very rough and dangerous with the torch light flickering on their features and creating deep ominous shadows. Draco cradled the wrist that he had fallen on, he had felt it break. He looked at them expectantly, expertly sheilding the pain his injury was causing him. He couldn't show them that they had hurt him. Draco knew something like this was going to have to happen sometime. The Slytherins were never ones to let anything, or anyone, go easily, especially someone who had as much influence and power over them as he did.

"Draco. It's a lovely evening isn't it?" The larger boy cracked his knuckles and stared menacingly at the thin blond boy in front of him.

Draco started to stand up and looked stonily back at him returning the sarcasm, "Just delightful."

"Look Draco," began the smaller, mousy haired boy, "We've - well everyone, actually - has noticed a change in you." He stepped closer, "And this change has made us worried."

"Well, there is no need to be worried, I assure you," began Draco, wincing as he shifted his arm after trying to steady himself.

"We think there is," the smaller boy said as he stepped even closer and pushed Draco back against the cold stone.

The other boy moved in behind his friend and said, "And we're willing to go to certain measures in order to see that you are back to your normal self before long."

Draco uncomfortably shifted his weight on his feet, well aware of what their persuasion tactics were going to be. "Boys, i am honoured by your, and the rest of the Slytherin house's, concern for my welfare," he gave them pointed looks then, "but, i'm afraid it's time for me to get back to my room for some light reading i was planning on doing. Draco turned to head in the direction of the Slytherin house, but let out a small gasp and immediately stopped as the mousy haired boy grabbed his injured wrist. Beads of sweat made their way onto Draco's forhead, and he pursed his lips against the lightning pain shooting through his arm.

"We are offering you a choice, Draco," said the taller one, seemingly without noticing any sign of Draco's discomfort, and looking down at him with what was surprisingly like regret in his eyes. "You come back to the common room with us and start acting like a real wizard - the one you used to be before you started avoiding us - or we try to persuade you as best we can in a manner we hope will finally reach you. You're becoming a traitor to your standards and we can't have that weakness. Do you understand?"

"Of course i do."

"And..." Prompted the smaller of the two.

"And I actually remember that i need to go to the library to catch up on some homework. So if you'll excuse me..." Draco's attempt to squeeze past them was futile. He was shoved hard against the wall again, and before he had time to make any other escape attempts, a fist made contact with his jaw. He reached up a hand to gently touch his face when another puch landed right in his stomach and he doubled over, grunting. He felt like he was going to be sick. Two hands shoved him so he fell on the ground, landing almost the same way he did before, and again he landed on his arm, he could see his injured hand was bent at an impossible angle. Shakily, he raised himself onto his knees and hunched over his arm. Tears threatened to pour over the threshhold, and he lowered his head to let his fringe hide his eyes. In a low, uncontrolled voice, Draco told the two Slytherins, "There is now way in _Hell_ i would go with you. Look what you'll do to your own housemate."

The tall boy bent down and whispered quietly in his ear, "You and I both know what it means to be in Slytherin. Don't take this personally." He them shoved him down hard with the toe of his shoe and began to kick him hard. Draco curled up into a fetal position while more kicks were making contact with his sides, back and head. In the midst of the pain, Draco wished desperately that he could just die there. No one would miss him, it was clear what his own house thought of him.

The final blow was when one of the boys kicked Draco's head causing it to whip back and hit the wall, causing a sickening _crack_. Draco lay motionless and unconscious, his whole body limp. The two boys were standing over him and wondered if they had gone too far in their assault. They shrugged it off and decided it was best to leave the bloody body alone then, in case they were blamed. So they quickly left the scene, not thinking twice about Draco and the deed they had just committed.

When Draco awoke again, he could feel a beam of light across his face, but when he tried to open his eyes, it proved to be incredibly difficult. Why was it so hard to open his eyes? He tried to move his arms until a shooting pain shot up his right one, and he immediatly stopped. Then everything came back. The conversation in the hall, the threats, and the beating. _Oh god_. Where was he? He opened his eyes wider, still only seeing through slits. Moving them around he saw high rafters, and tall windows. There were also other beds in the room, lined up in rows on either side. He was in the hospital wing. Draco could see madam Pomfrey bustling to and fro at the far end of the ward, seeing to other patients.

He wanted to get up; to leave the room and go somewhere he could be alone. When he made to turn onto his side, he made a loud groan. His whole stomach hurt like it was being kicked again. Madam Pomfrey had heard him and was quickly making her way towards his bead.

"Mr. _Malfoy_! Just what do you think you're doing, trying to get up in your state?" She gently pushed on his shoulder for him to lay flat on his back, and he didn't resist.

"How did I get here?" Draco asked, just realizing that he couldn't have made it here by himself, especially as he had been unconscience.

"Mr. Potter found you laying in the corridor. He had a right panic. Thought you were dead."

"Pff, I'm sure he wished I was." Draco said sullenly.

"Oh, just hush now." she said almost severely, " He doesn't think that. You gave me a scare, and all. The state you were in!" Her hand felt his forhead as she examined the rest of him closely, "Your head is just fine now, and I just made something for your wrist. Here," she handed him a cup of steaming red liquid, and he took it with his good hand and drank while she continued talking, "and your bruises should heal in no time. Before you woke up, i also applied some Tenderoot to your face; the swelling should go down in no time." She smiled encouragingly at him, before she took the cup in his hand and walked back across the room.

So now he knew why he couldn't fully open his eyes - because they were almost swollen shut. He also did some major dammage to his skull, and had numerous bruises. Just great.

Draco relaxed again, trying not to think about what had occurred only hours before, and closed his eyes. Almost immediatly he was asleep again. The next time he awoke, it was to someone's voice apprehensivly calling his name.

* * *

A/N: Review:) 


End file.
